


It'll get better

by Cutebutpsycho



Category: Cabin Pressure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 21:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17030142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cutebutpsycho/pseuds/Cutebutpsycho
Summary: Linguini prompted : "Douglas/anyone, the ‘it’ll get better’ kiss on the top of the head (bonus if Douglas is receiving)"





	It'll get better

If anyone at MJN ever saw this, they would swear that the world was ending. But it happened.

It had been after a particularly bad week – most of it was due to the Russian billionaire who ran the crew ragged with his inane demands, sending them from Fitton to Moscow to Lisbon and back to London, but some of it could also have been placed on Martin’s usual fussing about regarding weather conditions, which resulted in an overnight stay in Minsk. Then the daft bugger had to worry about a minor mechanical issue (tail light burned out during the last leg home during daylight), which resulted in another overnight delay in Lisbon as parts were retrieved for GERTI. Who knew that her type of jet wasn’t on the air much anymore?

Besides Douglas, that is.

Turns out they had to get the part in an airplane graveyard – a jaunt Arthur found both brilliant and spooky at the same time (“Do you wonder if it’s haunted?” he asked). So it was a very long week for Douglas.

Even worse was that he had custody of his daughter for the weekend and missed most of it thanks to MJN. Douglas hated missing his weekends with his daughter. In light of everything in his life, weekends with Emily were some of the lighter, happier moments around.

But there was still time. He picked her up from her mum’s and brought her to his house on Saturday night armed with the promise of pizza and movies. As they settled in to watch Brave (for what seemed to be the billionth time), Douglas slid the pizza into the oven and promptly fell asleep.

He would later swear that it was MJN’s fault – they had run him so ragged that he couldn’t even stay awake for the twenty minutes to bake a pizza. But in any case, he woke to hear the sound of the smoke alarm blaring and Emily tugging his sleeve.

“Dad!” she shrieked. “The pizza!”

Douglas sprang up from the couch and flung the oven door open as black smoke swirled out. Grabbing the tray, he swore for a moment as the hot metal touched his skin, before hurling it into the sink.

The string of obscenities that flew out of Douglas’ mouth would’ve caused Martin to faint, Carolyn to stand in admiring awe, Herc to smirk and Arthur to faint. It was not appropriate for an eight-year-old girl to hear, and Douglas felt a pang of parental remorse as he turned the faucet on and ran cold water over his hand.

“I’m sorry Dad,” Emily said after a long silence.

“Whatever for?” he looked back at her, seeing a bit of sadness on her face.

“I’m sorry the pizza’s spoiled, that you’ve been so tired and I didn’t want to bother you because were so tired,” she began, eyes welling for a moment.

“Oh poppet,” he sighed, before turning off the water and shaking the water off his hand. “I’m sorry also.” Douglas plopped himself in a chair and sighed heavily.

Emily came over and wrapped her arms around him, then planted a kiss firmly on his forehead. “It’s all right,” she said. “At least we can spend time together.” She pulled back. “So Chinese then?”

Douglas began laughing, spirits lightened a bit. “Chinese it is.”


End file.
